Hell-Bent On Slipping Away

|10|

"Life is ten percent what you experience and ninety percent how you respond to it." -Dorothy M. Neddermeyer

Frank had fallen asleep with Gerard beside him and woken up with the bed half empty, but he did not realize this.

The sun hadn't even risen and Gerard's alarm went off, a relentlessly annoying digital beep that broke the blanket of sleep. Frank reached for the clock and pressed the snooze button, suddenly remembering where he was. He rolled over with a sleepy smile, expecting to see a mop of red hair atop a happy face.

But he didn't. He saw a navy blue pillow with a head-sized indent in it. He saw the blanket pulled down like someone had climbed out of bed very carefully. But he didn't see the pair of old Chucks or hoodie that Gerard always wore. And he didn't see Gerard.

There was a piece of yellow notebook paper, folded neatly, on the dresser. Frank unfolded it and let his eyes skim the scratchy handwriting. There were three words written in red pen, just three words that could possibly give a clue as to why there was a lack of red headed sixteen year olds in the premiss.

I'm sorry. -G

Frank's first thought? Shit.

He felt his stomach drop as his rational mind processed the sentence. Gerard had done one of two things, either run away or killed himself.

Frank knew these were the only two options, he just knew it. There was no way you could spend the night crying, leave in the dead of night with only a note of apology, and not do one of the two things. He sure as hell wasn't going to be downstairs making flapjacks, that's for sure.

Fighting the urge to just break down on the carpeted bedroom floor, Frank clenched his fist, therefore crumpling the neat sheet of paper and bit his lip. He regained composure, wiped the forming tears in his eyes, and bolted down the hall to Mikey's room.

Frank didn't bother knocking, and since the door was unlocked, he just ran right in. Not wanting to make too loud of a noise but still urgent, he shook Mikey awake.

Mikey turned over. "Wh-what?" he asked, the daze of sleep blanketing his words.

"Mikey, look," hissed Frank, shoving the paper into the boy's face. Mikey blinked, took the paper, and reached for his glasses on the nightstand. He studied the note, and with each time he read it over, his brow became more and more creased with worry.

Mikey flipped the paper so the red script was facing Frank. "The hell does this mean?" he said, now fully awake and sounding a mix of confused and afraid.

"I have no idea," said Frank. "I just spent the night and he's not -" Frank felt his words catch in his throat. "He's not here anymore, Mikey. He's gone." Tears began to form in his eyes, just at the mere possibility of what could have happened to his friend. And Frank knew it was all his fault.

Mikey exhaled deeply, as if to clear his thoughts to make room for rationality. "What are we going to do?" he asked evenly, and Frank shrugged.

"We should go tell your parents."

"No. They leave for work really early. We can call my mom but I doubt she'd pick up." Mikey reached for his cell phone and dialed his mother's number. He sat with his legs crossed, still under the duvet, hands in his hair to express growing frustration with every ring where Mrs. Way didn't pick up. Eventually he sighed and set the phone down.

"We gotta call somebody," Frank said, feeling the desperation come off of himself in waves. "Lindsey, maybe? Even the police?"

"Don't have her number, and no, Frank. We don't need law enforcement involved." Mikey pressed the heels of his palms into his forehead and sighed.

It seemed to Frank as though Mikey was taking the situation very lightly. Deciding to voice his opinion, he said, "Don't you think you should take this a little more seriously, considering Gerard could have killed himself by now?"

To that, Mikey looked utterly perplexed. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again, finally just looking more confused. "Frank," he said gently after a moment, "why do you think he's going to kill himself?"

Frank bit his lip and looked at the ground. "I don't know," he admitted. "I'm just worried and that was the first thing that came to mind. I mean - the crying, and the note..." He let his voice trail off, sitting down on the foot of the bed.

Fortunately, Mikey was the voice of reason to Frank's anxieties. "That's not anything you have to worry about," Mikey said soothingly, resting a hand on Frank's shoulder. "He's told me many times that suicide isn't ever the answer to anything, and I know it wouldn't even cross his mind. He's only going to be gone for a few days like before, and when he gets back, we'll get to the bottom of this." Frank must have looked worried still, so Mikey offered a small smile. "I promise."

As much as Frank would have loved to completely believe him, he couldn't help but doubt him. Frank's heart rate had slowed and he was a hell of a lot calmer just by talking, but the incessant unease was still very much present.

"You're right," said Frank, and he hoped by saying it aloud, he would believe it. "But, don't your parents realize he's gone? Shouldn't we tell them?"

"They've been thinking that he's with you, too, just like I did," explained Mikey. "And we should when they get home. My dad hates being disturbed at work and my mom won't be able to talk." It seemed odd that something as urgent like this would be less important than a job, but Frank tried not to think about that.

Frank nodded in agreement. They stayed in silence for a moment, where Mikey looked at the wall and Frank examined the note. Why was Gerard apologizing? Why this time? Frank suddenly was disturbed by the fact that he may never come back, that Frank may never see the messy handwriting or the smiling mouth or the shining eyes of the eccentric boy again. That thought was enough to make Frank feel as though he were going to puke.

"We're going to be late for school," said Mikey suddenly, snapping Frank out of his daze.

The clock proved the younger Way boy right. Frank wouldn't have time to go back home and change clothes, so he asked, "Can I borrow a sweatshirt?"

"Yeah," said Mikey, climbing out of bed and making his way to the closet, stuffed to the brim with clothes and the typical junk that resides in a teenage boy's bedroom. He tossed Frank a blue sweatshirt, which Frank pulled over his head.

They eventually caught their respective buses and got to school, but all the while, Frank couldn't stop thinking about the classrooms that had an empty desk Gerard normally filled. He couldn't push the thought out of his head that Gerard may never come home again.

I'm so terrible I never update this

xxcady